


Show Me

by bluecurls



Series: Get Busy Living [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, First Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 16:51:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8169013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluecurls/pseuds/bluecurls
Summary: Prequel Get Busy Living in which Hermione Granger had a pseudo relationship with Charlie Weasley. It ended when she got together with Sirius and Remus. Here's what they had together before the Marauders intervened. I own nothing related to Harry Potter.This story previously appeared on the now-defunct Granger Enchanted. stephalopolisO9 asked if I'd repost it. This is for stephalopolisO9 and all the lovely people I "met" while writing HP fanfiction. :D





	1. Chapter 1

"Kiss me."

Charlie Weasley stared at the young witch in front of him. He was rarely caught by surprise. Working with dragons meant he had to be aware, be diligent, at all times. Anyone who didn't could get hurt. Still, as the redheaded wizard continued to gape at the small girl before him, he figured being burned by her was something he'd happily live with.

"I'm sorry?" He heard her before. He knew what she said, but he needed to hear it again; wanted to hear it again.

"Kiss me, Charlie. I want you to kiss me."

Merlin. She was serious. He didn't know her that well, but from the stories he's heard from his family over the years, Hermione Granger was not reckless, nor impulsive. She was brilliant, bossy, a bit of a know-it-all and blissfully unaware that she had several male members of the Order of the Phoenix wrapped around her little finger. "Hermione …"

"Charlie, I almost died two days ago – "

"I know about the attack at the Ministry," he interrupted. His youngest brother and baby sister were with her when it happened. Death Eaters attacking Hogwarts students. Students! It made his stomach roll to think about it. This was a war. People would die, he knew that, but he’d make damn sure his siblings weren't part of the carnage.

"Then you know it's only going to get worse," she told him.

He nodded slowly, forcing his eyes to stay on her face. It was late. The Burrow was quiet, everyone asleep when she walked into the living room. He couldn't sleep. His head was still spinning from the events two nights earlier, so he sat up, making a list of friends, possible allies that he had met over the years, people who might be willing to join the fight against Lord Voldemort, when she walked in, her bushy hair wilder than usual, her face pale with lack of sleep. She was wearing an old Gryffindor Quidditch jersey; Harry's or Ron's probably. It was baggy on her. It draped off her petite frame to expose the creamy white skin of her shoulders. The long sleeves practically covered her fingers while the length of the shirt ended just above her knees.

_Do not look at her legs! She's 16!_

"Dumbledore … he tells us were fighting for the light, for what's right," Hermione shifted from one foot to the other, the movement making her breasts sway slightly under the jersey. Charlie nearly groaned out loud. "He talks about love a lot; how Harry was saved from Voldemort because of his mother's love, why our ability to love each other makes us stronger than those who hate …"

Charlie nodded. He was aware of the professor's fondness for flowery speeches.

"Charlie I … I don't know what's going to happen, if I'm going to live, if my friends will live - "

He strode forward and grabbed Hermione by her arms, yanking her forward until her body was flush with his. Not giving her time to react, not giving him time to think, he pressed his lips against her in a bruising kiss, his mouth forcing hers open so he could sweep his tongue inside. He moaned at her tentative response, one hand letting go of her arm to wrap around her back and pull her closer still.

"Listen to me," he whispered fiercely when they broke apart, both of them panting slightly. "You are going to be fine. Harry, Ron – all three of you will be fine."

"You don't know that."

He kissed her again, partly to make her stop talking, partly because he had to taste her again. "I do."

Wiggling – Merlin, she needed to stop that right now or he was going to embarrass himself – she pulled out of his arms, breathing heavily as she stared at him. "No, you don't, Charlie. Neither one of us knows what's going to happen. All we do know is that a fight is coming and we're going to be in it. I'm not scared. I've been preparing for this since my first year at Hogwarts. I'm ready to fight; I welcome it! Voldemort has taken too much from us already and he needs to be stopped."

Her hazel eyes flashing, Hermione walked forward, forcing Charlie to move backwards until the backs of his knee hit the couch. Nudging him gently, Hermione waited until he was seated before she climbed in his lap, straddling his waist.

"I'm not afraid of dying, Charlie," she repeated, lowering herself slowly until she could feel him pressed against her. His hands grasped her hips. He didn't push her away and he didn't pull her down further onto his length. He just sat there, waiting for her. "If my death contributes to Voldemort's defeat, then I welcome it."

"Hermione -"

"No. I mean it. Only … " She watched him, as if she wasn't sure what to do next. Bringing her hands up to his broad shoulders, she rested them there, her eyes never leaving his. "I don't want to fight without experiencing what I'm fighting for."

"What do you mean?"

She leaned forward, her forehead resting against his, her breath warm against his lips. "Love, Charlie. I want to make love before I fight and I want you to be the person I make love with."


	2. Chapter 2

If Hermione had to describe Charlie Weasley in one word, it would be controlled. She didn't know him as well as she knew his younger siblings, but in the few interactions she’d had with him over the years, he always struck her as someone who didn't get flustered easily and could handle anything thrown at him, even a slightly-above-polite-acquaintance witch perched on his lap.

If she didn't want him desperately, she'd be mortified at her actions, but when she had jerked awake earlier that night, a silent scream in her throat, she had the overwhelming need to be with someone in the way she hadn't before. Harry and Ron were out, for obvious reasons. Fred and George … she loved them, but didn't know how she'd choose between the pair or if she'd even have to. That thought was too terrifying to consider. Percy was a prat and Bill was dating Fleur.

That left Charlie.

She had crawled out of bed, careful not to wake Ginny who was sleeping in the twin bed next to hers, and crept downstairs, intent on brewing a cup of tea and coming up with a plan to seduce the second eldest Weasley. When she saw him in the family room, his head bent over a parchment, his strong hand gripping a quill as he scribbled, sometimes staring at the words for long moments before writing again, all ideas for a plan flew out of her head. She wanted him. She wanted his hands gripping her, that same look of intensity on his face as he moved inside her.

"Hermione – " her name flowed from his lips on a moan.

He was going to turn her down. That's the kind of man Charlie was. Hermione leaned forward and pressed her lips to his again. She wasn't going to back down. She wanted to know what it meant to be intimate with a man. She needed to know. She couldn't explain why she felt so desperate. The fight at the Ministry ... Dolohov's curse … almost losing Sirius … it was all too much. She had been helping Harry in his fight against Lord Voldemort since their first year at Hogwarts, but it wasn't until two nights ago that she realized all they could lose. Her friends. Her family. Those who have passed before were just names. Yes, she hurt for Harry, and for Remus and Sirius, when thoughts of James and Lily haunt them. She wished Harry had a chance to know his parents, to love them and be loved by them. She wished Remus and Sirius still had their best friend and the woman they loved like a sister. She wished Molly Weasley hadn't lost her brothers in the first war, that Neville's parents hadn't been tortured beyond recognition. So much loss, so much pain, but it was removed. Now, though, it wouldn't be. It couldn't be. People she loved could, probably would, die.

"Charlie," she whispered against his mouth. "You can't talk me out of this. I made up my mind. If you don't want me, tell me. I'll walk away and we'll never talk about this again." Pressing closer, she trailed her lips across his face, using her tongue to trace the outline of his ear, smiling a little when he groaned deep in his throat. Bless Ginny and her addiction to erotic Muggle novels.

_Don't think about Ginny right now!_

"But if you do want me," she whispered, "then take me. Please."

She placed a chaste kiss on his lips and sat back, keeping her hands on his shoulders, her hands unconsciously kneading the strong muscles beneath his plain white T-shirt. Both were breathing hard, their deep pants the only sound in the quiet house. Hazel eyes stayed steady on blue for several minutes before his narrowed slightly.

"You want me to be your first?" he asked in a low voice.

"Yes."

"This only happens once, sweets.” He pushed an errant curl behind her ear. His fingers trailed down her neck, lingering longer than necessary. Hermione tilted her head to nuzzle his hand slightly. "You can't repeat it. You need to be sure."

She smiled slowly. She had never been surer of anything in her life. Charlie watched her face carefully. It was amazing. In the span of 20 minutes, she went from Ron's little friend to seductress. If she hadn't told him she was an innocent, he would never have guessed it. Sliding his hands down her waist, he gripped her hips tightly, leaning forward as he pushed her down, smirking when she gasped. "I'm going to make this good for you," he promised.

She responded by linking her arms around his neck. "I'll hold you to that."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: NSFW

Charlie stood up quickly. Hermione squeaked in surprise.

"Wrap your legs around my waist." He nuzzled her neck. She did as he asked – well, not asked exactly – and instinctively tightened her arms around him. Sliding his hands under her arse, Charlie walked through the living room and to the stairs, skipping over the first one that creaked loudly thanks to a charm his mother cast in effort to keep an eye, and an ear, on her children. She felt good in his arms. Better than good. Her small frame fit his larger one perfectly and her ass; he flexed his fingers, smirking when she moaned.

He nudged his bedroom door open with his foot, sending a silent thank you to Bill for spending the night with Fleur, Charlie strode to his bed and set Hermione on top of it before taking out his wand to lock the door and cast a silencing spell. Setting his wand on top of the dresser, he leaned against it, arms crossed, as he studied the witch sitting cross-legged on his maroon bedspread. She met his gaze evenly, every inch the Gryffindor as they studied each other, though the nervous way she bit her bottom lip showed him that she had some nerves.

_Good_.

"How did you imagine your first time?"

Hermione's eyes widened. This was not how she expected this to happen. Things were getting kind of heavy downstairs. She assumed they would continue that way upstairs. "Why are you so talkative all of a sudden?"

His smile flashed quickly. For a second, he reminded her of the twins. "I've got a lot to live up to, sweets. You never forget your first."

Hermione nodded slowly. To be honest, she always assumed she'd wait until she was married to have sex. It wasn't that she thought it was wrong the sleep with someone, or several someones, before marriage, but her personal preference was to wait. The girls in her dorm had laughed when she confessed that after a night of them drinking the elf wine Lavender had snuck into Hogwarts after the Christmas holiday.

_"What if he's awful?" The blond had shrieked in horror, her curls bouncing as she shuddered at the thought before taking another swig of wine._

_Hermione had shrugged. How would she know he was bad? It wasn't like she had anything to compare it to. Besides, wasn't it awkward the first time anyway? Talk had turned to other firsts after that, taking the spotlight off Hermione, which is how she preferred things._

"Sweets?"

She looked down at the bedspread, her fingers picking at a loose thread. "Um … I always figured I'd wait." She kept her head down, but peeked through her lashes to see Charlie nodding thoughtfully.

"And now?"

"I told you," she huffed. Honestly, would he just jump her already? "I don't want to fight without having this experience."

Charlie pushed away from the dresser and walked to the bed, sitting in front of Hermione. He took her hands in his and slowly kissed her knuckles, fingers; the inside of each wrist. The sweet gesture made Hermione's heart flutter. Keeping her hands in his, Charlie waited until Hermione looked at him before he spoke again. "I’m honored you chose me," he said quietly. "Like I promised downstairs, I will make this good for you, but you need to do something for me."

"What?" she whispered.

"Let go." He released one of her hands so he could use his to run slowly down her side. "I want you to turn off that amazing brain of yours and trust me enough not to think, at least for tonight."

Hermione considered his words. She was the brains of the group, Harry and Ron relied on her know-how to get them from point A to point B all of the time. All of their plans were vetted by her, including the backup plans they inevitably needed when the first plan didn't work. She was constantly reading, continuously researching, and always thinking. The idea of letting go, even for one night, sounded amazing. "I can do that.”

Smiling slowly, Charlie threaded his fingers through her hair and pulled her close, his lips just a breath away from hers before he spoke. "That's my girl." The kiss that followed wasn't sweet, despite the tender way he cradled her head in his hands. It was all mouth, all tongue, and it fired a feeling of warmth throughout Hermione's body. Moaning, she pressed herself closer, her own hands going up to circle Charlie's wrists, her grasp tightening as he moves his lips down her throat to lick along her neck.

"Lay back," he told her in a hoarse voice. Merlin, they'd barely started and already she had him wound tight. He watched as she did as asked, a small smile on her lips. Crawling up her body, he settled to her side and resumed their kiss as one hand explored her soft curves, giving her the chance to get used to his touch. He paid careful attention to the areas that made her moan, those that made her sigh, going back to retrace his previous administrations with his lips, his teeth, his tongue, as he slowly lifted the old jersey she wore above her legs … her stomach … her breasts.

"Fuck, Hermione." He helped her sit up so he could remove the maroon cotton and stare at the girl before him. She was a vision: pale skin, firm breasts, and only a tiny swatch of pink satin covering her sweetness. He wanted to rip it off, but knew aggression wasn't what she needed this time, so he controlled his instincts. "You are gorgeous."

She blushed. The way he was looking at her … intense wasn't a strong enough word. She wanted to cover herself; he must have known that, because he grabbed both of her wrists in one hand and raised her arms up. "My scar …" Her voice trailed off as he lifted his head to stare at the wound on her right side, the remaining trace of the curse she took at the Ministry. It was a soft pink against her white skin, the only blemish on her otherwise perfect body.

He ran his hand lightly along scar, schooling his features so she wouldn't see anger, only acceptance and respect. "I have scars; we all do," he said matter-of-factly. "Some are simply more visible than others." He shifted until he was kissing her again, his tongue tracing her lips, her tongue, making her forget her embarrassment. "They are a sign of strength, of bravery or, in the case of my brothers, recklessness. Each one tells a story, Hermione. This tells me you are strong and brave. You’re a fighter."

He watched as her eyes filled with tears; tears she refused to let fall. "Never be ashamed of your body," Charlie whispered, using his free hand to touch her, his calloused hand making her shiver has he touched her breasts, two fingers plucking one nipple while his mouth – Oh God, his mouth – licked and sucked the other. She shifted restlessly, her wrists still captured by his. She wanted to plunge her hands into his hair, to hold him closer. He must know that, given the way he chuckled, his breath warm against her flushed skin. "If I let go, can I trust you to keep your hands there?"

"What?" she gasped. He didn't want her to touch him?

Charlie lifted his head, narrowing his gaze on her. "Just feel, remember? Tonight is about you."

"But … what about …"

He smirked. "Don't worry about me, sweets. I'll get there."

There was that Weasley confidence the redheads seemed to have in spades. Smiling back, Hermione nodded her assent to Charlie's earlier question, her breath hitching as he pulled her arms higher, using his hands to guide them around the posts of the dark iron headboard. "Keep them there," he whispered, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead, her nose, and her lips before he sat back and took off his own shirt. Hermione's breath hitched as she took in his broad chest, the spattering of freckles over hard muscle, the large dragon tattoo that took up nearly half of his body, the head starting at his left bicep, the body going down the side and the tail ending somewhere still covered by his gray sweatpants.

"I want to touch you," she whispered, as he got off the bed. Her confession made him pause, his hands on the waistband of his sweats. He studied her, spread out like a goddess on his bed. He was going to worship her the way she deserved.

"Later," he promised. He pushed his sweatpants down his legs, his cock jutting out proudly. Her eyes grew wide as she focused on it, her cheeks turning pink when she caught him watching her. He only grinned and let her take her fill before moving back to the bed, this time settling over her body so she could feel them together, skin against skin. He was careful to keep the bulk of his weight off her as he balanced himself on his forearms, one hand reaching out to run his fingers through her wild curls. "Tell me, Hermione. What have you done? I know you went to the Yule Ball with Krum. Did you let him kiss you?"

She nodded.

"How?" he asked, leaning down to take her lips with his. "Was it a sweet kiss, a brush of his lips against yours?"

She nodded again.

"Was there more?" he whispered, moving slightly so he could run one hand down to her knickers, his fingers slowly moving underneath the satin. He felt the catch in her breath before he heard it. Moving his lips to nibble lightly along her jaw, he kept his fingers where they were, giving her a chance to get used to him. "Did he maybe pull you into the shadows and take the kiss further?"

Hermione shook her head, the roar in her ears making it hard to focus on Charlie's questions when she wanted, she _needed_ , his fingers to move lower. She never felt like this, like she was on the edge and had to jump or else she'd die.

"Why not?" he wondered as his fingers dipped lower, slightly brushing over the dark curls covering her heat. "If it was me, I wouldn't have been able to keep my hands off you."

She didn't have an answer. Viktor was nice. A bit dumb, but nice. There wasn't a spark, though. She didn't have butterflies in her stomach when he smiled at her. But Charlie … she was dying and he had barely touched her. She could feel dampness between her thighs, a dampness he was sure to see if he ever stopped playing with her and –

"Oh, God," she moaned, as Charlie's fingers dipped lower, exploring her folds.

"So wet," he murmured, his eyes on her face as he touched her, his finger finding the small bundle of nerves at her center, her hips moving in time with his fingers. Sliding one into her, he groaned as her wet heat engulfed him. "Gods, Hermione, you are so tight. You are going to feel incredible."

She couldn't answer. All she could do was _feel_ as he inserted a second finger while his thumb kept rubbing her. Her hips were thrusting more, speeding up as she raced toward something she didn't know, didn't understand. "Charlie," she gasped. "Don't stop! Please don't stop!"

His hair tickled her neck as he bent his head down to nuzzle her chest, his tongue darting out to circle one nipple. She was close. He could feel it. Curling his fingers, he sought that one spot that would make her scream, smirking as she gasped, froze and then let go with a loud cry.

"Charlie!"

He didn't give her time to recover. Whipping her knickers off of her legs, he moved down to lick up the moisture that left her body, his tongue exploring the places he fingers had just been. Hermione was too busy coming down from her orgasm, her first ever, to be embarrassed. By the time she came to her senses enough to realize what he was doing, it felt too good to be self-conscious. Tightening her hands on the iron bars, her knuckles white with the tension, she spread her legs wider, giving him more access as he licked her slit.

"Talk to me, sweets," he murmured, lifting his head slightly. "Tell me how you feel, how you want me to make you feel."

"Charlie …"

"Don't be embarrassed, Hermione," he kissed the inside of her thighs. "When you have a man in your bed, he wants to know what do to make you happy, make you satisfied. You have to be able to tell him."

"But I … Charlie, I don't _know_!"

He grinned against her skin. "Fair enough. I'm going to do what I like. You let me know if you like it, too. If you don't, tell me and I'll stop."

She lifted her head, her eyes dark as she studied him. "You like doing this?"

His look was fierce as he regarded her. "Any man who doesn't isn't worth your time, Hermione," he told her before dipping his head again. He gripped her thighs, pushing them wider, exposing her even more. Using his thumbs, he opened her sex to his gaze. Hermione had never felt more vulnerable, but she was too aroused to care. "I love seeing how wet you are, sweets. I love knowing I made you that wet, love knowing that I'm going to make you wetter. I'm going to lick you until you come again. I'm going to fuck you with my tongue until you scream."

"Oh, Gods."

"I’m Charlie," he smirked, lowering his head to do what he promised. "Oh, you can let go now. If you want."

That was all she needed, her hands gripping his head as he licked her from slit to clit, groaning as he tasted her. His touch was light, more of a tease. He did it again, slightly harder. The third time was hungrier. With a growl, he drew her clit between his lips and sucked. She tightened her grip on his head, her fingers tangled in his hair. She arched her back, the movement pushing her closer to Charlie's mouth, his wicked tongue. Taking one last suck, he moved so his tongue was in her dripping channel, his thumb pressing on her clit. She gasped, her hips pumping as he did what he promised. He was fucking her with his tongue, his thumb on her clit moving in the same rhythm.

"Charlie … feels so good … I'm going to … please …"

He kept moving, her shivers telling him she was close. He was so ready to take her, to slide inside her tight, wet heat. He was so hard, he thought he would die. He couldn't remember the last time a witch made him feel this way. He wanted to tell her, but he couldn't stop. She tasted so sweet, like honey and raspberries. He was quickly becoming an addict.

"Charlie!" she screamed, her fingers digging into his hair as she came, her body nearly coming off the bed as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. Charlie lightened his licks, bringing her down slowly. Resting his cheek on her right thigh, he smiled as she shivered, her body jumping as he moved his hand to cover her mound. "No more teasing, please," she begged, her voice breaking. "I need you inside me. Now."

He didn't need to be asked twice. He moved toward the head of the bed and knelt between her legs, taking her lips in a rough kiss. She could taste herself on him. She expected to be disgusted, but she wasn't as she sucked his tongue into her mouth. She felt amazing, gorgeous. Sexy. He made her feel ... that was it; he made her _feel_. It had been so long since she felt anything besides fear. She needed more. Moving her hand down, she grasped his cock, not able to get her hand all the way around him, smiling as he sucked in his breath.

"Hermione …” He buried his face in her neck as she pumped him once, twice, his hips thrusting with her movements. "Now, baby. No more playing." She growled slightly when he brushed her hand away to guide himself into her. "This might hurt, just for a minute, but I'll make it better. I promise."

She heard him, but she was too far gone to care. She had this need in her. A need he started with his kisses, his touch. She needed him. She needed him more than she needed anything. He moved slowly, his forehead pressed against hers as he made his way inside her, pausing only when he reached her barrier.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked in a strangled voice.

She could hear the tension in his voice, feel it in his body. She knew he'd stop if she asked him to. That was Charlie Weasley. But she didn't want him to stop. She wanted him to surge inside her, to move his hips against hers, to bring her back to the cliff and jump with her. "Don't stop," she whispered.

That was all he needed. Taking her lips with his again, he surged forward, catching her gasp in his mouth. Holding still, he let her get used to him as he continued to kiss her, his tongue showing her what his body would soon be doing. After a moment, she kissed him back. "Are you ready?" he whispered.

"Yes." She gasped with his first thrust. She felt so full. At first, it was too much, but as he slowly moved in and out in smooth, small movements, she could feel her body responding to his. It was beautiful. Perfect. She ran her hands down his back and smiled as he moved a little harder, a little faster.

"Wrap your legs around me," he demanded. She complied, locking her ankles. The movement opened her wider. He pulled back until he was nearly out of her, then surged forward.

"Yes," she hissed, arching her back. "More. Please, more."

He couldn't refuse her. She was warm, wet. He was completely wrapped up in her and it wasn't enough. Her fingernails were digging into his shoulders and he welcomed the pain. "Gods, Hermione, you're incredible," he groaned. She didn't respond. She was making those little noses that let him know she was close to coming again. Sliding a hand in between their bodies, he found her bundle of nerves and pressed and rubbed, smiling as she gasped. "Come for me, sweets. I'm so close …"

That was all she needed. She let go, the coil of want that had been tightening inside of her snapping. She dove headfirst into the pleasure, barely hearing Charlie as he shouted her name, his hips thrusting against hers as he found his own release. Spent, he collapsed on top of her, his body pushing hers further into the mattress, but she didn't mind. She tangled her fingers in his soft hair as they struggled to catch their breath. Aware that he was likely crushing her, Charlie wrapped his arms around Hermione and rolled over, bringing her body over his, his cock sliding out of her with the movement. He kept his arms around her, his hands drawing lazy circles on her back.

"Charlie," she whispered when she was sure she could speak again. "Thank you."

His eyes were closed, but the smile on his face was wide, his face content. "Anything for you, sweets."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fast-forwarding the story a bit. Remember, Charlie doesn't come home much, so it's not like he and Hermione have had time to develop a relationship and didn't really have much of a friendship prior to their previous encounter, but that's one way to start a friendship, huh?

Charlie watched Hermione as she sat on the couch, pretending to read a book. She was fooling most of the people in the study at Grimmauld Place – his family, Sirius, Remus, and Harry – but he saw how she'd look up every few seconds to glare daggers at Ron. He knew his loyalty should be with his brother, but it was Ron. He’s known for saying and doing dumb things. If Hermione was simply angry, he'd cut Ron some slack, but Charlie could tell that beneath that glare was hurt.

He had no claims on the young witch – their one night together happened nearly half a year ago. After engaging what he considered one of the best sexual experiences of his life, the pair had stayed in his bed, wrapped up in each other, for a couple of hours; neither one sleeping, but not wanting to talk, either. It was about comfort, having a person to lean on. Charlie appreciated his independence – growing up in the Burrow, he was desperate for a piece of the world that was just his, which is one reason why he lived and worked in Romania – but he didn't realize how much he needed someone that night until Hermione. As the sky began to lighten, she kissed him on the cheek and whispered "Thank you," sneaking back to Ginny's room before his mother got up. He approached the breakfast table gingerly, worried Hermione would say or do something to indicate their time together meant more than what she had initially proposed, but she only said "Good morning" and went back to talking to Ron and Harry. The rest of her time at the Burrow, she treated him the same as she did before she slept with him.

He was grateful for that. And annoyed.

Watching her now, Charlie focused on the annoyance, only he wasn't annoyed with Hermione, but Ron. What did he do to hurt her?

"Lavender Brown."

"What?" Charlie turned towards his sister.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Ron is dating Lavender Brown; sixth year Gryffindor. All they do is snog. It's disgusting."

Ron had a girlfriend? This was news to Charlie. But why did that bother Hermione?

Ginny eyed her brother. Really, guys were so _simple_! She saw how Charlie kept looking at Hermione, just as she saw how Remus and Sirius watched her. They all thought they were so subtle. She snorted and took another drink of her tea generously laced with some of Sirius' firewhiskey. If she was going to take Harry up on the not-so-subtle looks he was giving _her_ , she’d need a bit of liquid courage.

Ginny patted Charlie on the shoulder before getting up and walking over to where Harry and Ron were playing a game of chess. Harry was losing, as usual. Sitting on the arm of his chair, she leaned against him, smiling at his sharp intake of breath as her body brushed against his. Charlie, meanwhile, was still watching Hermione. When she got up and wished everyone in the room good night, he followed her out of the study, catching up with her on the staircase.

"Hermione?"

She turned; a questioning look on her face. "What do you need, Charlie?"

Good question. What did he need? Her? "I was … I just wanted to see how you were doing," he muttered, groaning on the inside. He sounded like a bumbling idiot.

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. School is school. It's quieter this year, but I think that makes Harry worry more, like something big is going to happen."

Charlie studied her face. She had circles under her eyes. "Do you think he's right?"

"I do. It's not like Voldemort is going to give up."

Walking up a step, Charlie smiled as Hermione instinctively moved back. He did it again and she did as well. They walked up the entire staircase that way, Hermione smiling as she realized what he was doing.

"That's what I wanted," he told her.

"What?"

"Your smile. I haven't seen it enough this visit."

It dropped a little. "I've smiled."

"Not a real one.”

She glared at him. "And you think you know me, Charlie Weasley?"

He grinned, leaning against the staircase, his mood restored by her quick flash of temper. "I'm pretty sure I know you in at least one way better than anyone else, sweets."

If he expected her to blush at the statement, he'd be disappointed. Instead, she smiled at him, leaning forward until their lips were almost touching. "I could say the same thing about you," she whispered.

If that wasn’t a challenge … He dipped his head to kiss her, first a tentative touch to gauge her reaction. When she didn't move away, he went deeper, one hand settling on her hip, the other wrapping around her wait to pull her closer, his pulse jumping when she opened her mouth to taste him.

"I've thought about you," he confessed, breaking the kiss to lean his forehead against hers, glad to hear her breathing was just as heavy as his.

She smirked. "And just what did you think about, Mr. Weasley?"

He smiled slowly, wickedly. "Well, Miss Granger, I could tell you or …"

"Or we could take advantage of the fact that I have my own room, and am very good at silencing spells and wards that no one can get through."

He swept her up in his arms and walked to her bedroom. "You are brilliant, Hermione."


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione didn't expect this to happen again, but here she was, her head on Charlie's chest, listening to his heartbeat slow in the aftermath of their reunion – not that she was complaining. Charlie was everything she wanted her first experience to be, but she had promised no strings and she meant it. That didn't mean she wasn't opposed to the idea if they were to consider another arrangement in which the two of them got together when it was convenient for both - and neither one had ties to someone else, of course.

"What was that?"

She lifted her head up to look at him. He had his eyes closed. "I didn't say anything."

"But you're thinking something, sweets."

She put her head back down, trailing her fingers around the dragon tattoo as she considered the best way to voice her proposal without scaring him away.

"Why are you mad at Ron?"

That's a mood killer. Pushing herself off Charlie, Hermione looked around her bedroom for her clothes, settling for the long sleeved shirt she had taken off of Charlie a little bit ago. He watched with an amused expression as she pulled it on, making no move to cover himself as he laced his hands behind his head.

"Comfortable?" she smirked.

"I'd be better if you weren't wearing so much."

She rolled her eyes. "I can't talk to you naked."

"Sure you can."

"Not if I'm going to talk about your brother, I can't."

He sighed, but smiled when she sat back on the bed, facing him. "What'd he do to you, Hermione? Want me to beat him up?"

She grinned. "Would you?"

"Anything for you, sweets. Tell me what you want and I'll make it happen."

She sighed and leaned back on her hands, stretching her legs in front of her. Charlie wiggled to a seated position, the pool of blankets covering the lower half of his body as he placed her feet in his lap and started rubbing. She moaned quietly, echoing a sound she made earlier for different reasons. "Talk to me.”

"Ron is dating Lavender …"

"And?"

"And he's not dating …"

"You?"

She shrugged.

"Hermione, do you like Ron?"

Oh God. She couldn't have this conversation with Charlie; he's Ron's brother. Plus he was naked and 20 minutes ago he was moving inside her, refusing to let up until she had screamed his name not once, but three times. The man had stamina.

_Stop thinking about stamina!_

Hermione tried to pull her feet from Charlie's lap, but he tightened his grip. "You can talk to me. Come on."

"This is wildly inappropriate.”

He chuckled at that. "I happen to know you like a lot of wildly inappropriate things, sweets."

He wasn't going to give up, so Hermione let it out, telling him all about Ron and Lavender, and how she assumed that because she and Ron had been nicer to each other lately, that perhaps they were on their way to being more than friends, but now he barely looked at her and she was so mad, she just wanted to hex him, and poor Harry was stuck in the middle and death was a constant threat they couldn't ignore, and she was worried about the impact all of this was having on her schoolwork, and she was thinking about putting her parents in hiding if Sirius was OK with her taking on permanent residence status at Grimmauld Place.

Charlie listened, his eyes widening at the tumble of fears and worries and thoughts that poured from her lips. His brother was an idiot. This girl was intelligent, sexy, fun, and caring. Any wizard would be crazy not to want to call her his. He fleetingly wished he could be that wizard, but let the thought go nearly as quickly as it came, the reasons for his dismissal coming to mind the moment she mentioned moving to Grimmauld Place. He saw how Remus and Sirius watched Hermione. If they weren't in love with her now, they would be soon.

"So that's what's going on with me," she finished with a sigh. "I'm crazy."

He squeezed her feet in what he hoped was a supportive gesture. She needed to vent; that was obvious. She couldn't talk to Ron and it sounded like Harry had enough on his mind already. She needed someone to listen to her, to take care of her, to give her an outlet for all of her stress and anxiety.

He was the man to do it.

"First, you're not crazy."

She snorted. It was adorable.

"I mean it," he continued. "You are just a young witch dealing with a lot of shit that you shouldn't have to at your age – or any age, really. Second, my brother is the dumbest man on the planet if he can't realize how amazing you are. You are too good for him, sweets. I love him, he's my brother, but you deserve more than him. Finally, you are brilliant. You are the smartest witch I ever met, and I've met some pretty amazing witches in my time –"

"Your time," she laughed. "Charlie, you're barely 24 years old."

"Your point?"

"You're talking like you're an old man."

"I'm older than you."

"Fine, fine," she conceded with a smile. She felt better than she had in weeks. Lighter. Happier. She shifted to her knees, moving forward to kiss Charlie lightly on his lips. "Thank you," she told him. "I needed this."

"The foot rub? The conversation? The mind-blowing sex?"

She laughed, only a little embarrassed. "All three."

Charlie pulled Hermione into his lap, kissing her with a bit more force than she kissed him. She responded immediately, her mouth opening to allow his inside, their tongues tangling as he slowly slid one hand up her thigh, underneath his shirt, to find her wet for him.

"Hermione?" he whispered.

"Hmm?"

"You still feel a little tense."

"Do I?" He could hear the smile in her voice.

"You do, sweets. I couldn't go back to Romania knowing I left you even a little anxious."

She ran her fingers through his hair, breaking their kiss to nibble down his jaw, kissing softly down his neck. "You are too good a person to do that," she told him.

"I am," he replied, moving quickly so that she was underneath him. He continued to explore her warm folds, loving how her eyes darkened as she rotated her hips, seeking more, wanting more. "You are so amazing," he whispered, his tongue tracing the outline of her ear. "Come for me, sweets. I want to feel you come on my fingers and then I want to lick you up. Can you do that for me? Can you get nice and wet so I can taste you? I want to go home with your taste on my tongue, your scent on my skin. I want you to go back to Hogwarts still feeling me on you."

"Charlie …" she moaned, dragging out his name in one lone breath.

He inserted one finger in her, then another. She was so close. He loved watching her come. Her whole being exploded, all of that energy letting go for one blissful moment. "That's it," he murmured, kissing her again. "Let go, sweets. Show me how I make you feel."

She didn't scream this time. Instead, she tensed for a moment and then relaxed with a delighted sigh. She looked so relaxed, so peaceful. But he wanted her to scream, so he moved down her body until his mouth was on her. He kissed. He sucked. He nibbled. His name was a constant chant on her lips. Her fingers were pulling his hair at the roots. He laid one arm over her stomach to keep her lower body still as he continued to taste, sliding his tongue into her dripping channel.

"Charlie!" she screamed. "Oh God, yes!"

He sat up, pulling her with him and kissing her roughly, falling to his back as she pushed against him and scrambled on top, her legs on either side of his waist, her core directly above his shaft. She looked at him a little uncertainly. He smiled. "Take me in you," he whispered, groaning as she slid down slowly. She felt so good. Above him, Hermione closed her eyes. He had never been this deep. He was touching parts of her he never had before.

"Hermione." His hands gripped her waist. "Open your eyes. I want you to look at me as you ride me."

She opened her eyes, gasping as he tightened his hold on her and started moving out and in, so slow, so steady. Using her knees as leverage, she quickened her pace when he groaned. "You're going to make me come again," she whispered.

Sliding one hand to their joined bodies, his finger and thumb found her clit and began rubbing.

"Only once?" he smirked.

Once. Twice. Three times.

"Happy Christmas, Charlie."

"Happy Christmas, Hermione."


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione stared at her reflection in the mirror without seeing. Her dress, the dress – it was the last thing she and her mom ever bought together, the last thing they’d buy together. She did what she had to do. She knew that. Performing the _Obliviate_ charm was the only way to guarantee her parents' safety. She'd rather they forget about her than live in danger, but …

A sob rose in her throat. Stumbling, she fell on Ginny's bed. She forced it down, taking deep breaths until the urge to scream had passed. She couldn't lose it; not now. She made a sacrifice. It's war. Everyone is making sacrifices. Mad-Eye died. George lost his ear. At least her parents were still alive and would remain that way for a long, long time.

_Knock, knock._

Hermione didn't answer; hoping whoever was at the door would go away.

"Hermione?"

Damn. It was Charlie. She hadn't seen him since Christmas. She knew he was arriving today. He was Bill's best man; of course he'd be at the wedding.

"Hermione, I know you're in there."

She stayed still, quiet.

"Dammit, Hermione, open the door!"

He didn't sound like the Charlie she remembered, the Charlie who showed up in her dreams. This wasn't the man who whispered sweet nothings in her ear while his fingers did things no one would call sweet.

"I'm going to count to three," he warned. "One. Two. Th –"

The door opened. Charlie lowered his wand and walked inside. He glared at the witch sitting on his sister's bed. She glared back.

"What?" she asked.

"'Oh, hi, Charlie; how are you? Did you have a nice trip? Why thank you for asking, sweets. I did.'"

She rolled her eyes and got up to finish getting ready, but as she moved to walk past him, he grabbed her by the elbow. He put his arms around her and held her, ignoring the stiffness of her body.

"I heard about your parents," he whispered, running one hand up and down her back slowly. "I'm so sorry."

"It's no big deal."

"You keep telling yourself that," he murmured, kissing the top of her head. "It's the bravest thing I've ever heard of. Your parents would be proud of you."

"Charlie -"

"They would, Hermione," he repeated, pulling back so he could look her in the eye. "You saved their lives. That doesn't make what you did any easier, so if you need to cry, I'm here. If you need to yell, I'm here. If you want to hit something, Ron’s downstairs. I'll go get him."

She snorted and leaned into Charlie, breathing in the scent of him. He used his wand to close and lock and door, and put up a silencing charm before he swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed.

"Charlie -"

"No sex," he told her. "I just want to hold you. Let me be here for you."

* * *

 

Charlie stood at the edge of the dance floor, a glass of firewhiskey in his hands, his eyes on the witch dancing with Viktor Krum.

"Who invited that guy?"

Charlie looked over at Sirius. He was watching the couple with a snarl on his face. He hid his smile behind his glass, taking comfort in the fact that he wasn't the only one not happy with Hermione's dance partner. "Fleur. They got close during the Triwizard Tournament."

Sirius muttered something under his breath and finished his own glass of firewhiskey, quickly conjuring another. Remus wandered over a moment later, taking a break from his post outside the tent. Charlie studied the lanky werewolf. He looked like he hadn't slept in days, which he probably hadn't. Like Sirius, his eyes swept the room until they settled on the witch in red. He smiled, just for a moment, then forced himself to look away. He was going to be the holdout. Sirius didn't give a damn what anyone thought of him. If he saw something he wanted, he took it, but Remus? The man could be too good for his own good.

That annoying little habit was playing in Charlie's favor at the moment.

"Well, gentlemen," he said, setting his empty glass on a floating tray. "I am going to ask the lovely Miss Granger to dance."

He strode to the dance floor and tapped Krum on the shoulder. "May I?" he asked, not waiting for an answer before taking Hermione into his arms. She shot Krum a kind smile before turning to Charlie, her eyes flashing a bit.

"That was rude."

"I asked to cut in."

"You didn't wait for an answer."

"Life is short, sweets, and you look too gorgeous not to have the men lined up to dance with you." Spinning her around so her skirt flared slightly, he grinned as she laughed. "I mean it, you know. You do look beautiful."

She shot him a look of disbelief. He responded by tightening his grip on her waist, pulling her closer so she could feel him through his dress robes. Her eyes widened slightly.

"I don't know what we're doing here, sweets," he admitted. "I think about you more than I should. I think about you in ways I shouldn't."

"Charlie -"

"No, don't say it. We're not cut out for happily ever after, Hermione. I know that. Someday this damn war will be over and I fully expect the two of us to still be standing, but we won't end up like Bill and Fleur. I need my space, my work, and you need your family: Harry, Ron, Ginny."

She smiled at him. "You do realize Ron and Ginny are your family, too?"

He shook his head in exasperation. "You know what I mean."

"I do," she agreed. "I just like to tease."

"I know that.” He laughed when she blushed. "I'm always going to have a piece of you, Hermione. There's always going to be part of you no other man will get. And I want you to know there's part of me that's yours; always."

Her eyes glittered with unshed tears. "Show me," she whispered.

"What?"

"Show me," she repeated. "Like you said, life is short. Let's go somewhere and enjoy it, just the two of us."

He stepped back. "I don't want to take advantage of you."

She stepped forward. "You never have, Charlie Weasley. You make me feel alive, complete, happy. When I'm with you, I forget to be afraid, to be scared, to be angry. I know I'm not your future, but I'd love to be your present. Please."

He took her hand, leading her off the dance floor, intent on sneaking her into the house, when a patronus of a lynx, Kingsley Shacklebolt's patronus, appeared in the middle of the tent with a warning. The Minister of Magic was Dead. The Ministry had fallen. Death eaters were on their way.

Hermione dropped Charlie's hand. "Harry!" she screamed.

Charlie watched as she ran towards Harry, grabbing Ron on her way. Seconds later the reception was in chaos as death eaters appeared, shooting hexes and curses. Charlie grabbed his wand, deflecting two. He looked for his sister, his parents. He saw Remus push Harry toward Hermione, shouting at him to go. Seconds later, Harry, Hermione and Ron disappeared.


	7. Chapter 7

"How you doing, little brother?"

Charlie looked up from his perch on the porch at Shell Cottage. He'd been in that spot for more than an hour, staring at the ocean as he waited for news about Harry, Ron and Hermione.

"I can't believe you didn't stop them." He reluctantly took the cup of coffee his brother held out to him. He'd rather have firewhiskey.

"Right, because those three are quite easy to control," Bill replied, taking a seat opposite his brother. "Especially Hermione."

Charlie didn't miss his brother's unspoken insinuation. He and Hermione had been careful to keep their association secret, but Bill was his older brother. He knew Charlie almost as well as Charlie knew himself.

"Ron has feelings for her, you know."

Charlie sipped his coffee. "I know."

"Then you know it isn't fair to do whatever it is you're doing behind his back."

Charlie glared at Bill. "I wasn't aware Ron had called dibs."

Bill rolled his eyes. "Come on, Charlie; you know you're not the long-term type."

"So?"

"She is. She's marriage and children and noisy family dinners and lazy Sunday mornings."

Charlie knew Bill spoke the truth. Hell, he had said the same to Hermione, but that didn't mean he wasn't allowed to worry about her. He liked her. In his own way, he loved her. He knew she had something she needed to do in the fight against Voldemort – he'd never try to stop her – but that didn't mean he couldn't worry. As for Ron … He loved his brother. He did. But he didn't see them together. He was too Ron and she was too Hermione. If he honestly believed Ron would ever have the guts to make a move, he'd step aside. He would. He had to believe that.

"I know what I'm doing."

"I hope so," Bill replied.

* * *

 

Voldemort was dead. Charlie stopped to take it in. It was over. It was finally over.

He ran through the great hall and into his mother's arms, nearly bending in half so he could rest his head on her shoulder. She held him tight, stroking his hair and whispering his name over and over. He felt his dad's arms come around him. Then George, Ginny, Bill. They were OK. Fred and Percy … they were hurt, but they were going to be fine.

"Ron." He pulled away from his family. "Where's Ron?"

"I just saw him," Ginny said, pointing to the castle's entrance. "He's -"

Charlie didn't wait for her to finish. He needed to see Ron. He wouldn't be able to relax until he saw him with his own eyes, until he knew everyone in his family was OK. He ran through the hall, avoiding looking at those who weren't as lucky. He would mourn the losses, remember those who made the ultimate sacrifice; he would. For now, though, he wanted to be happy.

He saw them sitting on the staircase, Ron and Hermione. They were turned towards each other, their knees touching. He held both of her hands in his. Their heads were close together as he whispered something to her. She smiled in response, squeezing his hands. Ron moved closer and then they were kissing. Charlie watched in disbelief.

"Well hell," Bill walked up beside him, slinging an arm around his shoulder.

Charlie shrugged. He was filled with newfound respect for Ron and, if he was honest with himself, just a little bit of jealousy.

"Let's go check on Percy and Fred," Bill said.

Charlie took a deep breath. "Yeah."

* * *

 

_About three months later_

The owl ducked into Charlie's tent, a large envelope tied to his talons. With an exhausted hoot, he perched on the back of the second chair at his kitchen table, accepting the piece of bacon Charlie held out as his due before allowing Charlie to retrieve the letter.

_Dear Charlie,_

_I know this letter is long overdue and I apologize for that. I've tried writing it many times, but never knew what to say. Now that Ron and I are no longer together, it's easier._

_I love Ron. He's one of my best friends, but I'm not in love with him. We gave it a try. It felt wrong. We argued all the time … all right, we always argue, but this was more than usual. I don't have a lot of experience with relationships, but I don't think it's supposed to be like that. After a long talk, he agreed. I expect things will be awkward for a while, but eventually I hope we'll get back to where we were. It helps that I'm going back to Hogwarts for my seventh year. Ginny is thrilled. Harry and Ron are not, but I know this is something my parents would want me to do. I want to do it, too._

_I'm living at Grimmauld Place until classes start. Sirius has already promised my room will remain mine until the day I decide otherwise. Harry is living here, too. I don't think your mom is thrilled with the arrangement, but she takes comfort in the fact that at least Remus is responsible._

_I miss you, Charlie. I know I shouldn't, that you probably don't want me to, but I do. Your mom is having everyone over for a family dinner before Ginny and I go back to school. If she hasn't owled you yet, she will. I hope you'll come. I never got to thank you for everything you've done for me. Now that I'm not completely preoccupied with thoughts of horcruxes, I've had some time to daydream and I think you'd be interested to know what I've come up with._

_Love,_

_Hermione_

* * *

 

"Merlin, Hermione … you're killing me."

She giggled quietly, the sound making him moan as she took him deeper in her mouth. She was on her knees in front of him, his fingers tangled in her hair. He was pressed against his bedroom door, biting his lip to keep from shouting as she swallowed him. Fuck, where did she learn how to do this?

"Sweets, I'm not going to last if you keep doing that," he warned.

She didn't respond, just pulled back slightly so she could swallow him again. Her hands were tight on his thighs. He struggled not to thrust into her mouth, letting her control the movement. He should make her stop. He should tug her up and sink into her warm heat. He should …

"Holy fuck," he groaned as he emptied himself into her, gasping at the suction as she swallowed every drop. She finally let him go with a pop, sitting back on her heels with a satisfied smirk. He slid down the door, boneless, but still managed to pull her into his lap. Burying his face in her neck, he kissed her lightly, running his tongue along her tendons, sucking lightly at her pulse point. "You are incredible."

"I did OK?" Her voice was a bit unsure. "I'd never …"

He pulled back, taking her chin gently in his hands and turning her face so she was looking at him. "Are you serious? Sweets, you are a fucking natural."

She blushed. "That's not really something one aspires to be a natural at, Charlie."

"I don't have a problem with it," he replied. "In fact …" He moved so she was lying on her back. Quickly undoing the button on her trousers, he slid them down her legs, taking her knickers with them. "I feel like my technique could use some work. You'll let me know, won't you?"

She sighed as his tongue settled on her, curling her fingers into his hair. "Anything you want, Charlie."


	8. Chapter 8

"A toast!"

Hermione lifted her martini, giggling as George cleared his throat. She heard him say something, his words greeted with cheers from their table, but it was muffled in her brain. Swallowing the last of her drink, she considered switching to water for the rest of the night, but then Ron pulled her to her feet and gestured to the bar.

Another drink sounded lovely.

She took Ron's arm and walked to the bar, smiling as he ordered one beer and one strawberry margarita. Looking over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching, the pair switched drinks so he could guzzle half of the sugary-sweet concoction. Hermione leaned close to Ron to block his actions from their table. That's what Charlie saw when he walked into the Muggle bar, only it didn't look like Hermione was covering for Ron. It looked like she was cuddling him. As the couple pulled apart, laughing, he was sure that's what it was.

Ignoring the pair, he joined the others at the table, kissing his sister on the cheek and wishing her congratulations. Work kept him away from the graduation ceremony at Hogwarts and the celebratory lunch at the Burrow, but there was no way he was missing the barhop with his siblings.

"Charlie!" Hermione yelled as she got back to the table. She flopped into her chair, nearly spilling what was left of the margarita in the process. Harry reached over the table to steady the glass.

"Happy graduation, Hermione," he told her, kissing her on the cheek. She smiled at him, her eyes slightly glassy. "I'm sorry I missed the ceremony."

She shrugged, picking up her drink to finish what Ron left behind. "You've been there. You know what it's all about."

"I heard Kingsley offered you a job at the Ministry."

She nodded. "Mmm … research. My first love," she said and then hiccupped. Giggling, she accepted the glass of water Fred pushed her way and drank deeply. "If you'll excuse me," she pushed back from the table and got to her feet, wobbling slightly, "I need to visit the loo."

"Are you all right there, love?" George asked.

She nodded and toddled off. Charlie watched her bump into a tall man wearing jeans and a green T-shirt, his eyes narrowing as the man took Hermione's arm to steady her. Hermione said something that made the man laugh. He took a step closer, his hand still on her arm.

"Ron," Charlie said sharply.

"Huh?"

"Hermione needs you."

Ron looked over to see his best friend flirting with a Muggle. She was smiling up at him, he was grinning down at her. They looked like they were hitting it off just fine. Why Charlie thought Hermione needed help was beyond him. "She's doing great on her own," he said as he finished his beer. Considering Hermione got to it first, there wasn't a lot left. He wondered if she'd be up for another margarita.

Charlie rolled his eyes at his brother and pushed his chair back. With determined steps, he walked towards Hermione, reaching her just as the man she was with asked if she came to that bar often. Charlie scoffed. That line was older than most wizards.

"Problem?" He folded his arms across his chest and glared at the stranger still touching Hermione. He had a couple of inches on Charlie, but he wasn't nearly as built. Hermione looked over and smiled.

"Charlie! This is Matthew. Matthew, this is my Charlie."

Matthew had the decency to let go of Hermione's arm at the words "My Charlie," but he didn't step back. "You're the boyfriend?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.

Hermione giggled. "No boyfriend for me, Matthew."

Charlie turned toward the drunk witch. "What about Ron?"

"Ron?" She looked confused. "What about him?"

"Ron? Your boyfriend?" She was looking at him like he was crazy. "Sweets, I just saw you two all over each other at the bar!"

Understanding dawned on Hermione's face, smoothing out the wrinkles in her forehead as she laughed. "Who would've thought the great Charlie Weasley would make an assumption like that." Still laughing, she patted his cheek before impulsively hugging Matthew. "Thank you again for your assistance." She walked away before either man could stop her.

"She's really not your girlfriend?" Matthew asked, admiring the view of Hermione's bum in her tight black dress. It was simple, but clung to her like second skin.

"No, but she is mine," Charlie replied.

* * *

 

Hermione leaned against the bathroom counter, eyes closed as she waited for the dizzy spell to pass. Maybe that last drink wasn't a great idea, but she was so thrilled she and Ron were able to joke around like friends again that she'd order a dozen more just like it. The thought that Charlie believed she and Ron were dating again made her snicker. It was nice to know even level-headed Charlie could jump to the wrong conclusion.

She tugged the bathroom door open, her face lit up when she caught sight of the man waiting in the hallway, his back against the wall. "Checking up on me?" She stepped forward ran her hands up his chest.

"You’re drunk, sweets."

"Oh, I'm more than drunk," she whispered into his ear, smirking as he shivered. "I passed drunk about an hour ago."

"So what are you now?" he asked, tilting his head so that she had better access to his neck. He loved when she nibbled on his skin, her small tongue darting out to lick the freckles that dotted his tan skin.

"Mmm. Happy. Very, very happy." He sucked in a breath as she trailed one hand down his body, resting on the bulge in his jeans. Squeezing lightly, she kissed him, her tongue melding with his. "Do you want to be happy, Charlie?"

Chuckling, he ran his hands down her back to her arse, boosting her into his arms. Not breaking the kiss, he walked her back to the women's restroom and propped her against the closed door. Happy sounded wonderful.


	9. Chapter 9

He felt her shift, so he tightened his hold around her waist. She giggled and shifted again.

"Go back to sleep," he grumbled.

"I can't," she whispered.

He opened an eye. "Why? And it can't be because you want to go another round. We broke long-standing records last night, sweets. No one can keep up with us. Let's celebrate by resting."

She elbowed him in the side, laughing as he shifted to pin her to the bed.

"Well, if the lady insists, I suppose I can - "

She slapped her hands against his chest to keep him from leaning closer. "Charlie Weasley, you stop right now."

"Why?"

"Because I need to leave."

He looked out the window. It was dark. "And go where?"

"Home."

He looked around. They were in his room at the Burrow. Home. "Can't you sneak into Ginny's room later?"

She shook her head. "I don't live here anymore, remember? I'm at Grimmauld Place with Harry, Remus and Sirius."

Charlie flopped over to the other side of the bed. He’d forgotten. She was no longer a student and of age, meaning his parents no longer had any influence over her decisions, not that any adult ever had influence over Hermione Granger. "How's that going?" He asked as she swung out of bed and looked around his room for her clothes.

"Fine," her voice muffled as she pulled her dress over her head.

"Everyone’s getting along? Remus and Sirius are being good?"

"I don't know what you mean by being good, but yes, they're fine.” She stuffed her knickers and bra in her small purse. Charlie buried his face in his pillow, jumping when he felt her lips on his shoulder. "Thank you for coming back. It was good to see you."

He rolled over and sat up; pulling her into his lap so he could kiss her good bye. "It's always good to see you, sweets."

"I'll owl you?"

He nodded. She leaned forward and kissed him softly on the lips, then slid out of his bedroom door, holding her purse and heels in one hand.

* * *

 

He sat at the bar, three empty bottles in front of him, but that didn't stop him for signaling the bartender for another.

"Weasley!"

He looked over his shoulder, nodding at the black-haired man. "Johnson."

Cooper took the empty barstool next the Charlie, raising a brow when the redhead took a long pull from his fourth beer. "Bad day?"

Charlie shrugged. His mom had owled earlier that day, asking if he'd be home for Christmas. The fact that she'd even ask was laughable. Weasleys always came home for Christmas. Even when there was a damn war and they all had targets on their backs, they were home for Christmas. True, he had not been back to the Burrow since June, but he was busy. It's not like they expected to see him every month or every other month. Sure, he usually made a point of visiting more often, but just because that's how he used to do things didn't mean it had to stay that way, right?

"Women troubles?"

Charlie snorted. No, he did not have women troubles. He had a woman problem.

"Want to talk about it?"

Charlie took another drink. "Not particularly," he muttered. "It's not like anything will change."

"Why?" Cooper asked.

Charlie sighed. "Because she doesn't belong to me."

"So it is a woman?"

"She's more than that, my friend."

"How so?" Cooper was curious. He'd known Charlie for nearly three years and had never seen the man shaken by the fairer sex.

Charlie folded his arms on the bar as he tried to find the words to describe Hermione Granger. Brilliant? Beautiful? Adventurous?

Broken?

He knew she wasn't doing well. She owled him, full of stories about her job, but it wasn't what she said that had him worried, but what she didn't say. Something was off. Charlie imagined she was suffering from the effects of the war; her torture at the hands of Bellatrix Lestragne; the sorrow of those lost; and survivor's guilt. He wanted to owl his brother. Harry. Maybe even Remus or Sirius, but how could he without giving away their secret?

Charlie wanted to be there for her. He wanted to take her in his arms and make her forget everything haunting her. He wanted to hold her at night, his arms protecting her from the dreams that haunted her sleep. He wanted … He sighed and finished his beer. He couldn't be that man for her. He could try, sure, but he knew it wouldn't last. Eventually he'd feel smothered, tied down. She'd end up hating him. He'd resent her. He didn't want that to happen. He wanted to remember his time with Hermione affectionately; no regrets.

He pushed back from the bar and stood up, his movements steady despite the alcohol flowing through his system. He needed to owl his mother before he lost his nerve.

He wouldn't be home for Christmas.

* * *

 

Hermione stared at the parchment. It was short, to the point.

_Hermione,_

_Work is crazy and I can't get away. I'm sorry._

_Happy Christmas,_

_Charlie_

"Are you all right, sweetheart?"

She looked up, blinking at Remus who sat at the kitchen table. He had a concerned expression on his face, so she pasted a smile on hers and nodded, crumpling the paper in her hand like it wasn't a big deal. It's not like she was counting on seeing him Christmas morning.

"I'm fine.” She tossed the paper in the fireplace, muttering a quick chant so it burst into flames. She grabbed her cup of tea and left the kitchen, barely responding to Sirius' greeting as she passed him in the hall.

"She's getting worse," Remus said when Sirius joined him at the table.

The raven-haired wizard sighed. Hermione was a ghost of her former self, retreating more and more inward as the days passed. At first they told themselves it was exhaustion. The girl was allowed time to rest, but as the weeks went by it became clear it was more than that. She wasn't sleeping. She hardly ate. "Christmas will help," he said with forced confidence.

"Really?" Remus asked.

Sirius sighed. "I don't know, Moony, OK? She's the most stubborn person I know. Until she asks for help, we can't do anything for her."

Remus emptied his teacup. There was one person they could turn to, though neither man wanted to admit it. He opened his mouth to say it, but Sirius cut him off with a glare.

"No," he said. "If Charlie wants to step up and take care of her, he'll have to do it on his own. We're not going to pave the way."

* * *

 

She stood in front of his flat, wondering what she was doing. This wasn't like her. She was supposed to be on her way back to the Ministry now. The reason she was in Romania, the translation of the prophecy, had been sent to her supervisor. She should go, too, but the team she worked with was so fun, so different than the uptight researchers in her own office, that she joined them for dinner and drinks.

A lot of drinks.

Too many drinks.

She lost count of the number of drinks.

As she sat there, staring at the empty glasses on their table, she thought of Charlie. He lived in Romania. It was his birthday. He was renting a flat. She remembered because Molly announced it at dinner last week and everyone's jaws dropped.

"Charlie no longer lives in a tent?" Fred asked.

"Hell just froze over!" George yelled.

She didn't remember looking up his address or telling her colleagues goodbye. She didn't remember walking to the apparition point or thinking of her destination. She certainly didn't remember taking off her clothes, but she must have because she wasn't wearing anything under her cloak.

She knocked on the door.

Charlie was in bed, reading, when he heard the knock. Sighing, he swung his legs out of bed and walked down the hall to the door. He didn't want to go out for drinks. He told everyone on the reserve that several times, birthday be damned, but of course they didn't listen.

"I mean it!" he growled, opening the door. "I'm not in the mood!"

"Tough," Hermione swept inside, using the heel of her foot to slam the door shut. "I am."

She whipped off her cloak and tackled him to the ground, his shock at seeing her naked making it easy. She took him in her mouth before he caught his breath, dragging a long moan from deep in his throat.

"Fuck!"

She sucked, tugged, pulled. She moaned. He groaned. He tried to touch her, but she slapped his hands away. She brought him to the edge, then backed off, licking slowly, sucking softer. She did it once. Twice.

"Sweets, please," he begged.

She let him go, crawled on top of him and slid down, taking him into her wet heat before he even caught his breath. She moved on him, hard, fast. He lifted his hands to grab her waist, to try and slow her down, to make it last, but she slapped his hands away. All he could do was fist his hands tight and watch as she took him, took what she wanted until she screamed her release.

"Hermione –"

She smiled. Slowly. Leaning forward, she kissed him softly on the lips. "Happy birthday, Charlie," she whispered.

Then she was gone. And he was still hard.

* * *

 

Hermione didn't recognize the owl, but he knew her. He swooped into her bedroom and dropped the letter on her bed, leaving before she could give him a treat.

_Sweets,_

_I'll be home for Christmas. Be ready._

_C_


	10. Chapter 10

Charlie shifted to his side with a groan, wondering why he thought it was a good idea to have sex on the floor when there was a perfectly good bed just a few feet away, but then he looked down at the witch sprawled next to him and smiled.

That's why.

Her eyes were dreamy and dazed, and slightly out of focus. He’d feel cocky over her reaction, but knew he looked the same way. He didn't know what it was about tonight, but they attacked each other. There was no other word for it. He flooed to Grimmauld Place in secret and tackled her seconds after sneaking into her bedroom. He wondered if she remembered to put up a silencing charm, then shrugged it off. Hermione didn't belong to Remus and Sirius; not yet. She was free to shag whoever she wanted and as the wizard who currently had that honor, he couldn't be more pleased.

"You're pretty proud of yourself, aren't you?" Hermione teased, her voice slightly hoarse after screaming her last release.

"What can I saw, sweets? You make me feel things I've never felt before."

She blushed and Charlie inwardly kicked himself. How could he say something so romantically stupid? They were not meant for the long-term. He saw the way Sirius was watching her all day at the Burrow, his gray eyes not once letting Hermione out of his sight. Charlie saw how the older wizard's gaze narrowed after Hermione opened his gift to Hermione – a heeled pair of dragon-skinned boots designed to make a man sit up and beg for mercy. If he was going to live out his fantasy of making love to Hermione while she wore those boots and nothing else, he was going to have to do it soon.

Time was running out for them.

"Charlie?"

"Yeah, sweets?"

"I'm glad you came home for Christmas."

"How glad?"

Her smile was slow, devious, as her eyes locked on his. "Can I tell you on a scale of one to 10?"

"I'd rather you show me. In fact, you could show me by putting on my present to you."

She furrowed her eyebrows. "But you got me boots."

"I did."

"You want me to put on the boots and nothing else?"

"Correct."

Her gaze was steady as she looked at him. He didn't blink. He wanted this. If this was his last time with her, he was going to make it count.

"All right," she whispered.

* * *

 

She was sleeping when he woke up, her hands tucked underneath her cheek, her hair taking up most of his pillow. It was everywhere, some of it covering her face. He pushed it aside, part of him not wanting her to wake up and the other wishing she would. She shifted. He held his breath. She sighed, her eyes remaining closed. He counted to 100 in his head, telling himself if she was still asleep when he finished, he would leave.

But he didn't want to.

She was incredible. He'd known that before he kissed her, known that before he had his first real taste of her, before he slid inside her. She was brilliant and funny and wicked and sweet. She was strong enough to withstand torture, yet still innocent enough to blush when he whispered dirty things in her ear.

She'd worn the boots. He was sitting in her bed, his back against the headboard, when she'd walked into the room, a terrycloth robe over her body. He could see the boots underneath and he waited, saying nothing, as she slowly undid the sash at her waist.

The robe dropped in a pool of fabric. All that was left was Hermione, gorgeous Hermione with her peaches and cream skin, wearing a heeled boots that laced up her calves. Charlie held up a finger, twirling it around once, smiling as she obeyed, turning a slow circle.

"Is this what you wanted when you bought them?" she teased.

"You've exceeded my Christmas wishes."

She walked toward the bed, hips swaying, but he held up a hand, stopping her.

"What?"

"I'm not done looking."

She blushed, but stayed still, her hands on her hips as his eyes slowly trailed from her head to her toes. There were bruises on her, caused by his hands. He didn't feel guilty. If he had his way, she'd have more by morning. He shifted, moving until he was sitting on the side of the bed.

"Come here."

She did, stepping between his splayed legs. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to just above her stomach. He ran his hands up her side, feeling the scar from Dolohov's curse. She'd flinched the first time he touched it, so he made sure to spend a long time kissing it, licking it, letting her know he took nothing away from her beauty.

"I'm going to lay back, Hermione, and you are going to crawl over me. You are going to go up, past my cock, past my chest, to my face. You are going to lower yourself so I can taste you. I want to make you feel so good, that you are grinding your pussy against my mouth."

He loved watching her eyes when she got excited. They grew darker with lust, with want. He could see her legs trembling. She wanted this. She needed it. He needed to give it to her. He laid down. She hesitated.

"Now, sweets."

The bed dipped as she climbed on. He watched as she hovered over him, balancing on her knees. He could grab her hips and sheath himself inside of her. She wouldn't complain, but he had to do this first.

"Keep coming."

She brought her hands down, crawling up his body on hands and knees. The leather of her boots was cool against his heated skin. The tips of her breasts brushed against his chest. He opened his mouth as she moved past him, wanting to suck her red nipples deep inside. She paused, as if she wanted that to, but no. He told her what he wanted. Lifting his hand, he smacked her lightly on her rear, loving her gasp of surprise. She liked being spanked. He didn't do it often, but every time he did, she'd scream her release.

"You're almost there," he whispered, licking his lips in anticipation. And there she was. Finally.

She was excited, her pussy wet and red and waiting for him. He raised his hands to part her folds, running his tongue along her for one long, slow swipe. She sighed. He did it again, smiling at her soft moan of pleasure. She thought this was going to be easy.

It wasn't.

He grabbed her hips and pulled her down on top of him. His tongue slid inside her as she cried out in shock and want. She whimpered as he licked, sucked, his mouth devouring her. He wasn't kidding when he told her any man not willing to please her in this way wasn't worth her time. Her scent. Her taste. This was Hermione as her finest. He loved licking her, feeling her body quake as he consumed her. He loved circling her clit with his tongue, feeling that nub grow harder as she panted. She was no longer fighting his grip on her hips, trying to lift herself way from him. She was pressing closer, grinding just like he said, panting his name as she asked for more, begged for it.

She wasn't going to last long. He'd taken her too much already that night. Her body couldn't hold out much longer. He needed to come inside her one more time, but he wanted this more. He wanted to feel her break so he could remember what it was like to have Hermione Granger completely at his mercy.

"Charlie … I'm close."

She was. She was moving faster, her hips jerking. He tilted his head down so his nose bumped her clit as she thrust against him.

"Oh Gods!" she cried. "Yes!"

She kept screaming. He kept licking. She tensed, He held her to him as she came, loving the feel or her shudders against him. When she rolled off of him, he was on top of her, inside her, before she could catch her breath.

"Legs around my waist, sweets. I want to feel your heels in my back. Mark me! Make me yours!"

She did. He could feel the abrasions now. They hurt, but in a good way. He crawled out of the bed, watching her as he got dressed. He hoped she'd be happy. If Remus and Sirius didn't make her happy, he would cheerfully execute them and take Hermione to Romania.

"They better fucking appreciate the gift I'm giving them.”

They would. He knew that. He didn't want to give up Hermione to prove it, but it was time. She was theirs.

He walked to the bed, drawing the covers up until they covered Hermione completely. Damn, she was beautiful. He didn't know what his future held, but he'd always be grateful he had this time with her. He wasn't joking when he said a part of him would always be hers, just like part of her would always be his.

He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her lips.

"Good-bye sweets," he whispered. "Give ‘em hell."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for this one! Thank you for reading!


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